I sat in meditation
Pebbles nibbled my flesh
Warm winds whipped around me
At last the sun kissed bare skin,
Two boys frolicked in the shallows
Safe from shadows overcast by clouds
So many years ago on this same beach
My sister and I had rolled in mud,
By the sea I remember
Where I came from
Long days laughing in water
Some kind of magic floating in the air,
One of those places again
Clouds stand still
Birds swoop and dive
Particles shimmer, time pauses
Here I can stay forever
Cocooned in paradise on earth.
As I pack my belongings for another time surrounded by cardboard boxes, stacks of books, clothes I discard to charity shops, and memories scribbled in diaries I read my past dreams and wonder how it was ever possible to of been all of those different people I once was.
A dream that has remained constant since I was 12 to find happiness; to end the suffering; to know love. When I was 14 I confessed considering cutting my wrists but cast this thought aside with an overpowering desire to see my future self. Even then in all of the darkness and loneliness I knew that some day it wouldn’t be painful to be alive and that someday struggling through without physically hurting myself would be worth it. Emotionally I caused myself a lot of pain but that was induced by low confidence and low self-esteem that I attempted to build by cutting out positive encouragement from magazines.
Still today, occasionally the feeling of lost desperation overtakes my passion to succeed in life and I become incapable of fighting for any dreams. My dreams always change. Lists of goals stain multiple white pages, a few fulfilled, always many incomplete. Does it matter that I have trails of unfulfilled dreams? Thinking that each of these goals will lead me to happiness and success and a better life than I have now. Thinking that by completing each goal I will improve myself, I will be a more valued human being, I will be more capable, I will have more rights to be alive because I am more useful to society. Truthfully if I am supposed to learn something it will be learned without my efforts. If there is a talent to be bestowed upon me it will naturally occur and lack of patience is the only enemy. So I trust in the universe that through the pain and the suffering however long it may last, on the other side there will be more than I could ever have dreamed of.
I always seem to be on the waiting end. Waiting for someone who has more authority than I do so they can be late and I must wait to live my life. But I cannot be late and they will not wait for me because I am another person in their busy schedule. I understand this, I just don’t wish to be on this waiting side, I wish to be the person in control.
My sister says I frown upon those who work lower down the career ladder, and perhaps sometimes I do. But I understand my place in society, I understand their place in society and I am not happy about it therefore I will change it. I am at the bottom of the ladder. I used to disagree with this theory entirely and protest that such a ladder of society did not exist, perhaps that was only because I was incapable of climbing it.
I have been visitor to hundreds of realms that live side by side amongst one another, co-inhabiting with cultures hidden slightly beneath the lines of regular society that are silent, invisible or ignored. I used to believe that I didn’t belong within any of them, but now I belong in all of them and at the top. My calm and relaxed drive to be at the top of the ladder, to break away from constraints of a working class, impoverished background with a single alcoholic mother who constantly fed me her depression and anxiety, is not a simple hunger. It is not for fame or fortune but to revolt in the most powerful way possible, by changing my self. Through listening to myself, realizing my own beauty, my own intelligence, my own right to be alive on this earth, and to live the way I want to live. My up-bringing, my environment and my mental health from a young age destroyed all of these qualities that would usually appear so naturally. Now, finally I have taken them back, re-established them within myself and will use them to my greatest ability.
What you must realise, is that the illness is not in control of you. These feelings that take over your mind are not permanent and constant, they are malleable and separate. Fears take control and govern our movements, thoughts, and words so that we are incapable of living our lives as the human being that we are. We forget who we are, that we ever were a person, with dreams, passions, joys, loves, dis-likes and emotions, because all things are directed by a deep incomprehensible misery that seems to have no way out.
We dwell on our past, endure flash-backs to moments that caused us pain and re-live prominent experiences of our childhoods over and over again. Dissecting each detail, questioning reactions and quizzing reason for why it was the way it was, but there is no answer and at the same time there are endless answers that travel back to the beginning of humanity, to our DNA and glitches in the human race. All that we do is learned from an external source from a mother, a father, a teacher, a man in the street, a book or a television show that will influence our decisions and our ideas and the way we think of ourselves.
We lose belief in ourselves because we are surrounded by non-believers, emotional abusers and people who are unwilling to change. Be open to change, welcome change, and believe in change. Believe that you can change and you will change. Your brain is an organ, it needs to be exercised and trained with positivity, gratefulness for simplicity, patience, well-being, creativity and self-belief. Be proud of who you are, respect yourself and don’t be afraid to speak your thoughts and talk about how you feel.
What I have slowly come to terms with are the regular, every day amenities of this modern society we live in. In my early childhood I was excited for learning, my only desire was for knowledge and my young mind was fresh and ready to absorb all that it was given. I noticed my experiences were not similar to those of other children at school, from not having a television to not having a father and though it was of no fault to anyone this singled me out yet put me in a box. I did things that were unusual, while the other children spoke of the latest television show I sat in silence unable to participate because instead I had spent the evening listening to my mother’s drunken woes. It was many years I endured feeling isolated, smothered by extroverts, and to some extent, intentionally encouraged to feel abnormal by my peers, teachers and family. It is apparent I am an extremely sensitive soul, the world was un-kind to me and I was un-kind to myself on a pathway that spiralled down and down, but I always knew there was a way out of the prison that enclosed my being. People say there is help, I only saw enemies when I was ridiculed for my anger and my tears because really all I wanted was to be understood and for someone to notice the pain I was suffering through. I wish that people are not afraid to reach out, to be honest, to speak of their feelings without worry of hurting another person or making a fool of themselves and for people to attempt to understand what they do not know rather than abandon it or aggravate it. Every human being is different and the only thing we can do is try to understand each other, comprehend our uniqueness, believe in our capabilities and admire our evolution.